


Trouble Sleeping

by PerseusHuntress



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 13:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16833691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerseusHuntress/pseuds/PerseusHuntress





	Trouble Sleeping

Dawn was breaking over Skyhold, the early light flooding the high spires of the citadel in rose gold and throwing mottled shadows on the floor below. The Inquisitor was walking the grounds, sleep alluded her, too much on her mind for her thoughts to quieten enough for rest. What little sleep she did manage was fitful and cut off abruptly in the early hours.

Skyhold was quiet in those hours, but not silent. It was time for the servants to start their rounds, the horses stirred and pawed at the ground awaiting their first meal of the day, and somewhere in the distance she could hear the clash of steel. Orsene smiled to herself, her Commander was relentless.

As she made her way across the dew covered gardens, with the flowers gently unfurling to greet the rising sun, a group of officers jogged passed. The men and women saluted the Inquisitor with sleepy, still hoarse voices, she answered with a nod unwilling to engage the already harassed soldiers in further ceremony. Orsene followed them with her eyes as they moved away, choosing in that moment to turn in the opposite direction so as to avoid further encounters.

The title of Inquisitor gave her grandeur she never quite fit into. Although the Trevelyans were a high noble family in Ostwick, her particular branch tended to shun the ostentation of her other relatives, much to the dismay of her own mother, who was immensely proud of her offsprings and felt that they deserved much more pomp than they allowed. That is not to say that they were not swathed in luxury, but it paled in comparison to her cousins who took the rituals of nobility so seriously it bordered on absurdity.

Memories of home, of her family washed over the Inquisitor bathing her in the warmth of nostalgia, so much so that her body to moved of its own volition as her mind wondered back to the Freemarches. A sudden blast of cold wind shook her out of her reverie. Orsene shivered against the cold and looked around herself, finding that her feet guided her atop the western battlements. All around her the Frostbacks stretched to the horizon, snow beginning to glitter in the weak sunshine of the early hours. The bitter wind blowing from the west was nipping at her exposed skin, making the Inquisitor wrap her arms about herself to keep warm.

Skyhold never seized to amaze her, the ancient citadel was enfolded in some untraceable magic which kept the bitter winter of the mountains at bay, creating a perpetual summer within its walls. Only the winds dared to encroach on the idyll of the fortress, but the massive ramparts did a good job of keeping even those intruders away. The Inquisitor shuddered in the frigid blast and walked on to the southern side of the ramparts, seeking much needed shelter between the towers.

The sound of steel against steel rose in volume as she moved toward the main gate, where it finally reaching a crescendo, loud enough for her to distinguish voices.

“Sydell keep to your forms! Your foil is drooping so much that you may as well wave a handkerchief in your enemies face for all the good it will do you!” Cullen bellowed at a young freckled recruit. Orsene watched in fascination as Sydell proceeded to jump so violently at the reprimand that he dropped the weapon entirely. She could have sworn that she saw Cullen close his eyes for a fraction of a second and mutter something to himself, before rearranging his face into a picture of patience and striding over to the boy. The recruit recoiled as if a bull was charging at him, meanwhile the Commander simply picked up the foil from the ground and handed it back to the recruit, saying something inaudible. All tension flooded out of Sydell and the boy flashed a weak smile. As Cullen walked away the Inquisitor definitely saw the Commander roll his eyes and his lips quirk upwards in amusement.

The moment was short lived, Cullen’s features hardened once more as he returned to drilling the Inquisition forces. Orsene was transfixed, usually by the time she emerged from the Great Hall the soldiers would have finished with their exercises and dispersed to their various posts. She’s witnessed some of the training whilst in Haven, but at the time she was so bewildered by her own situation she simply payed no mind to them. Now however with the numbers of her troops expanding almost daily it was a sight to behold. Not least of all because of the man leading them. Orsene would be lying if she said that she did not enjoy the sight her Commander from the top of the battlements.

Lion of Skyhold people called him, and she could see why. Cullen was a kind of man that would rip his enemies to shreds on the battlefield without a hesitation, the fire of rage she’s saw in him at Haven was hypnotic, he transformed before her into a warrior of old. Yet she’s also seen the same man, fret and worry over his troops, fuss whether Cassandra’s sword well maintained, or if Dorian’s ‘fashionable’ armour was offering enough protection, he even worried about her. Orsene has seen him protectively flank her against the onslaught of nobility that flooded into Skyhold upon their arrival, making up urgent reports that simply must be read immediately, in order to extricate her from the endless parade of officials. Josie was not best pleased, her and Cullen wouldn’t speak to each other for a week after the incident. 

Orsene leaned on the teeth of the rampart, and studies the man below her. Cullen was for once in his life unburdened by his heavy armour, armour which she suspected was as much for physical protection as it was a barrier against the world. The Commander wore a loose white shirt, which billowed in the warm breeze of the court yard, as he meandered amongst the training soldiers, occasionally righting a shield here or showing the correct technique there. The physical exertion of the trainings has made loose curls tumble forward from the Commander’s usually immaculate head, Cullen was irritably blowing them out of his eyes, or attempting to sweep them back with the back of his hand, but it was the losing battle, the rebellious waves refused to be commanded making Orsene giggle to herself quietly. As he lunged effortlessly with his sword, the material stretched taught across his arms and back, exposing the curves of muscles making her inhale sharply. She caught herself mentally tracing the curvatures and hollows exposed by each new jab, the Inquisitor mentally willing Cullen to keep going. When the Commander moved on to the next officer, Orsene pursed her lips in disappointment.

“You know he’s seen you right?” a voice made Orsene jump back with a yelp.

“Sera!” she spat feeling the colour rise to her cheeks.

“Her Gracious Ladybits” Sera mock curtsied smiling broadly “Lovely view?”

“What are you doing here at the crack of dawn?” Orsene was feeling irritable like a little girl being caught out with her hand in the cookie jar.

“I could ask you the same thing” Sera smirked back with a knowing look. “But if you must have it, your pet woke me up, with all the barking”

“Commander Cullen is not my pet Sera.” The Inquisitor frowned.

“Uh-huh, and your Cully-Wully isn’t primping and tossing his golden mane because he’s noticed you watching.” The elf laughed at the expression on Orsene’s face.

Orsene could feel her blush deepen. “He is training the soldiers…”

“Yeah right!” Sera interrupted her mid-sentence. “I’ve seen him train, wakes me up every frigging morning, usually grim, stomps about like he is trying get through to Ozimmar but they won’t return his correspondence.” She giggled at her own joke.

A sudden cunning evil look came into Sera’s eye making them glitter. 

“HEY CULLEN! LOOK WHO’S HERE!” Sera screamed from the battlements frantically waving toward the Commander, before Orsene could so much as collect herself.

Cullen’s head wiped up and he looked at the two women with growing curiosity, Sera continued her insane waving and Orsene could feel herself turning crimson from embarrassment.

“Maker…” the Inquisitor whispered in horror. 

“Come on!” Sera laughed hysterically grabbing the Orsene’s hand and thrusting it up, Orsene had no other choice but to wave lamely at Cullen, who attempted to save at least a shred of her dignity by inclining his head in deference. 

Orsene could have sworn she saw him fighting back a smile as he did so.


End file.
